The World Has Not Ended Yet
by Wren-Khat
Summary: During the Cold War, Russia is called by a very worried, very stressed New Zealand. Slight RussiaxNZ  if you look for it  and Russia being more or less sane. Rated T for minor foul language.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers: Hetalia in any way shape or form**

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><p>The black handset clanged as it was smashed back on to its receiver. The hand that had so violently reunited the two remained gripping the handset, the white knuckles contrasting against the shiny black metal and the dulling silver spin dial. The hand's partner was pressed against the table supporting the weight of their owner, a slim, almost boyish, bodied teenage girl. Her sandy brown hair curled into ringlets with two large curls on either side of her head. Her face was nearly a pale as her knuckles and her sleepless sea green eyes were ringed with black. She relaxed her hold on the phone and stalked back to the nearby chair. She sat down letting herself sink into the soft cushions before snatching a pillow off the ground and hugging it between her body and her knees. She glared at the phone, blaming it for anything and everything that was wrong with the world at the moment. The phone, being inanimate, did nothing. The rest of the room was sparsely decorated. An empty fire place yawned at the room from the far wall, with large glass windows on either side of it streamed in the fading moonlight. Opposite the chair was a simple bed, the covers still untouched from too many sleepless nights. A rug or two adorned the hardwood floor and lights hung from the vaulted ceiling's exposed wooden beams. Though at this time, despite the dark they were left off. The clock above the door on the far side from the fire place ticked mimicking the rhythm of an annoyed cat's tail.<p>

They girl let go of her knees and tossed the pillow back to other side of the chair before walking back to the phone. She grabbed a hold of the handset and with her other hand spun out the number she had dialed far too many times that day. As the last number was dialed she prayed to whatever gods, fairies, goddesses, spirits or ghost that might be listening that this time she would finally get the call through. The phone rang once. Then a second time. By the fourth ring she felt the sinking feeling in her gut settle in again. The phone rang again, still nothing. With the hope and strength draining from her she slowly pulled the head set away from her ear.

_Click_ "Hello?"

She froze and silently thanked everything and anything that had listened to her prayer. She had finally, _finally_, gotten through. She cleared her throat; it felt warm and raw from under use. She could not remember if she had even spoke today, or the previous day for that matter.

"Hello, Russia? It's me New Zealand. Please, whatever you do don't hang up this phone"

Silence. "Your boss knows that you are calling me, yes?"

"No, and as far as I am concerned he doesn't need to know."

There was a pause on the other end. "Ah, then your brothers know, yes?"

"No."

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><p>The handset nearly fell from Russia's hands. All though New Zealand's relationship with America had always been rocky at times she was still very close to England and Australia. She always talked of them favorably, challenging anyone who dared insult her older brothers. She would do anything for her brothers and they would do anything for her, their little sister. But here she was telling him that not even her brothers knew about this phone call. He would have thought she was joking with him except her voice was completely void of any emotion, any clue that what she said was not absolutely true.<p>

"Russia?"

There was her voice again, but it wasn't her normal voice. Just a few years ago he had seen her on the battle front and not once, even when she was in the trenches had he ever heard her voice this detached. Something wasn't right. The tall nation's brows knit together in thought. She wasn't worried about the whole thing with America was she?

"Russia, are you there?"

She sounded worse than before, her stress creeping into her voice. But at least there was something in her voice this time instead of a dull lack of emotion.

"Yes, New Zealand I am still here."

"Please, hear me out alright? And don't take this the wrong way either." He knew it, something was gnawing away at her from deep within. Chances were it involved America.

"Go on. I'll listen."

"Whatever you do, don't go to war with America. I don't care how you sort things out just don't get in a fight alright?" Her voice betrayed her fears even more then her words had. So it was about his argument with America. But why would she be so worried about a simple fight like that?

"New Zealand. There is nothing to worry about. America just got a little worked up about something. He does that a lot, yes?" He heard what he guessed to be hair brushing against the mouth piece as she shook her head.

"This time I don't think it will be. Just too much is going on in his home. His people are unhappy and even if he doesn't want to fight you he may not have a choice."

"So you want me to not fight him, yes?"

"No matter what." Her voice had lost the undertone of worry and had gained a bitter edge of sorrow mixed with determination. He could almost see her sea green eye in the straight stare she had worn so often before leaving the eastern war front to rely a message to her brothers on the western front. While he found it kind of her to worry about him, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just her not wanting America to get hurt.

"New Zealand, before you hang up I can ask you a question, yes?

A pause, then "Yes?"

"Why are you so worried about this? It is between me and America. It's more than him being you brother, yes?" He knew he was probably being insensitive by asking why she should care about something not involving her directly. She still looked up to England at times, and for all he knew maybe she had grown attached to America as well.

"Because it won't be just you and America." Her voice was soft and bitter. But under her words he knew she was in pain. He could imagine her mouth twisted upwards at one corner into a sneer, distorting her normally cheerful face. Why, he still didn't know.

"Why do you say that?" He kept his voice level ignoring the tone in her previous comment.

"If America goes to war he'll be looking for allies, forcing you to search for them as well. No matter which side ends up on top doesn't matter because the entire world would have been shot to hell. The world lucked out last time. This time that luck might not hold." He knew she was right. With the atomic bomb a new force on the battle field any war that happened from here on out would be a no win situation. The loser might be completely annihilated, but so would the winning side. Even neutral parties would lose. All that would be left of the world would be destruction.

"What would you do if the war started?" He regretted the words once they had left his mouth. He had seen her have nightmares over her past encounters with war. Her own past was not as clean of blood as it seemed.

"I wouldn't fight." The bitterness had once again been replaced by cold, hard determination.

"Your boss would make you though, yes?" He tried to be as kind as he could. He knew that she could not escape the war if it broke out, and he knew that she did as well.

"I said I wouldn't fight." She growled the statement. She was annoyed at him, he could tell. He sighed, no, she was annoyed at the world, not just him, Russia corrected himself. Through the phone he caught a sound he had never heard from the smaller southern nation, but a sound he had heard all too often himself. He heard the stifled sobs of someone trying not to cry. He couldn't believe his ears. Throughout the bombings, the blood, the death, throughout everything she had suffered during the war not once had he ever heard a sob or seen a tear fall down her face. Through the worst of everything she wore a determined grin. Even when she was laid up in the hospital with tubes running into veins and bandages wrapped tightly around her torso and arm, not once had she cried.

"New Zealand? Are you… are you alright?" He heard he attempts to control her breathing before she finally answered.

"Of course I'm not alright! If either of you start a war I have to choice to fight my brother or my friend. How can anybody make that choice? I can't just abandon someone important to me; I can't let anyone else get hurt. I just can't see any more people die over something so meaningless. Have we really fallen so far that the only thing we can do is try and destroy one another?" She tried to control her voice and not give anymore of her feelings away. But she failed, her voice gave her away each time it broke. He tried to grant her as much dignity as he could. He heard her composure break and heard her stifled sobs through the phone. He could see her in his mind hunched over, tears making pale red lines down her face and the salt from the tears sting her eyes making them bloodshot. He could see her squeezing her knees to her chest, trying to physically force herself to even out her ragged breathing. Her mouth contorted in her sadness. She would bury her face in her knees, hiding her weakness from the world. Even though he was miles away he adverted his eyes to the ground. Deep in his chest he felt a twinge of pain, not much, but enough to make him sick to his stomach. He had to do something. She had remained one of the few nations that would always talk to him. Nothing he did seemed to scare her, whether because of her naivety or bravery he hadn't quite worked out yet. But the fact remained that she was one of his few true friends. She was willing to suffer in order to not hurt him or her brothers. She had deemed him at the same level of importance as her brothers who she loved so dearly. He could not just sit there and listen to her cry. He ran his free hand through his hair and sighed staring up at the clock. It was getting late, almost ten o'clock at night. It was probably morning where she was. Had she slept at all? Probably not given the secretary had told him about the phone's insistent ringing while he was away at his meetings.

"New Zealand, are you still there?"

"Yes" Her voice was weak and barely audible, but it was there.

"What time is it where you are?" He heard her clothes brush up against the mouth piece as she moved to see her clock.

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><p>New Zealand wiped the last of her tears away from her eyes. She was too numb to feel shame She couldn't remember the last time she had cried. She had become used to pain over the years with the constant fighting and death. She had no idea where her sobs had come from but she was too tried to try and stop them entirely and lock the sadness deep within herself. She shifted to see her clock, mindlessly complying with Russia's request.<p>

"It's nearly seven in the morning here." She was exhausted, she had no idea why Russia cared what time it was at her house, but she was also too tired to protest so answered his seemingly senseless question.

"What day?" His voice was calm and reminded her of a patient school teacher with a particularly troublesome student.

" I don't know, the sixteenth?" She rubbed her eyes again. She couldn't remember the last time she had fallen asleep. Her whole body was aching and stiff, objecting to any unnecessary movement.

"Ah, but it's the fifteenth here." She stopped. He was right, she was one of the closest countries to the International Date Line, so at this moment, her yesterday was still Russia's today. Through the fog of her mind she started see the reason behind Russia's seemingly inane questions.

"So the world hasn't come to an end, yes?" For the first time since she had learned of the tension between her brother and her friend she smiled. It may have been a small, weak smile but still a smile.

"No I guess not." He voice was back to normal, or as close as it could be. In her sleeplessness everything seemed alright again. Her worries had receded. They were still there, in the back of her mind, but they had left the rest of her body alone for the moment.

"I promise you I will not fight America if I can avoid it, yes? But you need to promise to not worry about the two of us. Neither of us really wants to fight, we will find a way to settle this without anyone getting hurt. Please, you can trust me, yes?"

She mumbled her agreement before she drifted off, able to finally sleep after too many nights pacing her room. The phone clattered to the floor as her hand relaxed. As she slept, curled up in the all too comfortable floor, the first rays of sunlight of the new day hit the Earth's surface and shone through her windows glinting off of the metal phone and her sandy brown hair.

Miles way the tall, blond country placed the handset back on to its receiver. The corners of his mouth turned upwards into a smile that carried into his pale blue eyes. The world was not going to end, at least for tonight.

End

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><p><strong>Historical Note: <strong>During WWII, New Zealand Solders were part of the Arctic Convoy which kept the link between Russia and the other allies open. In 1944 New Zealand and Russia officially established diplomatic relations with each other that are still in place to this day**. **

**Author's Note:** Well, this is my first official story so thank you for reading it! Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated.


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